


i Wanna Be Your Dog

by roaming_pony (altered_eagle)



Series: City Goblins [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Dark Knight (2008)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Blowjobs, Bruce Wayne is hella emotionally conflicted, Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drug Use, Heath Ledger was a babe, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Joker whump, Life lessons I learned from Pixar, M/M, Medical, Romance...i guess, Rough Sex, Sickfic, The Joker isn't though, and i still miss him, sure, why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:14:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altered_eagle/pseuds/roaming_pony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what happens when Batman burns out and Bruce Wayne's compassion gets the better of him. Because sometimes good people make bad decisions for selfish reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cop Killer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i started this shit in 2008. Good God. i mean good fucking God. Batman and the Joker were one of my first OTPs but i wrote this with Bale and Ledger in mind because let's face it they're fucking hot. But it can apply to any of the Batman and Joker incarnations. Doesn't matter. The title is taken from the song [I Wanna Be Your Dog by The Stooges.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BJIqnXTqg8I) Also as with all my other fic, every chapter is named after a song. There is a link to each song at the beginning of each chapter. The music obviously heavily influenced the content but is not essential to the story.

[Cop Killer: Body Count](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IgPqUx4c9-M)

It had been almost three weeks, and he was still at large. He'd escaped from Arkham a month after he was re-committed, and Gotham had once again plunged neatly into chaos. To make matters worse, the Gotham police force had officially and understandably condemned Batman, so neither party had the other's support.

They both fought alone.

And despite the fact that the Joker was still blowing up buildings and murdering countless people and terrorizing the city, nobody could track him down— until Wayne caught up with him on Highway 93 in mid December.

At 11:25 PM, Wayne was still cruising down the highway in his father's 1965 Ford Galaxie 500, listening to Penny Lane on the radio station that pandered strictly to Gotham's hippies. The song ended at precisely 11:28 PM, after which Wayne tuned into the stolen police scanner only to hear that the Joker had set the police station on fire and driven off in an armored car. Heading towards Highway 93. Which meant that Wayne had no choice but to pull over struggle into his spare suit in the back of the car and pray like hell that nobody saw him.

And when the Joker finally rolled up on him, they did battle like always and Wayne fought courageously in the name of Justice but nobody could deny that he was breaking down. He didn't even know what he was fighting for anymore.

And they were still there out in the cold clawing at each other's throats. The Joker was reaching for his AK again when Wayne pulled him up by his collar and forced him against the hood of the car. He really knew better than to let the rage take over but by the first punch he was fucked. He'd lost control. So for the next two minutes Wayne let it take over he stood in the middle of the highway, punching the Joker harder than he'd ever punched anyone. He couldn't stop when his breath caught in his lungs and his knuckles were split and bleeding inside his gloves. 

He couldn't stop.

The Joker sat there and smiled and took it. He didn't fight back. Not even when Wayne backhanded him like he was a worthless whore and he crashed to the icy pavement.

It was when Wayne lost his breath and let up for a split second that the Joker pulled him down by his cape and pointed a hunting knife at his eye. Because the knife was about eight inches long and hovering literally a hair's breadth above his eyeball, Wayne had no choice but to lie still as the Joker knelt on top of him, pinning his arms to his sides. The Joker didn’t look it but he was incredibly strong; it almost always took Wayne by surprise no matter how many times they fought. 

The Joker smiled at Wayne and pushed the barrel of a nickel-plated .45 under his chin.

You're a slow learner, you know that. He was breathing hard and his chest hitched when he inhaled and half of his face was completely covered in blood. And although the Joker never gave indication that he was in any sort of pain, Wayne had to smile because he really did look like shit. The Joker moved the blade of the knife so that the point was resting on Wayne's lower lip. There were sirens in the distance. See, i've been in this game a lot longer than you have, sport, he drawled, tilting the knife back and forth. But this isn't Monopoly money we're playing with.

You're monologuing, Wayne remarked. The Joker laughed. His trenchcoat was ripped open at the shoulder, revealing a dark bullet wound above his collarbone.

Why did the Batman cross the street.

What—are you high.

Not anymore. i took a bump before we left, but... the Joker sighed dramatically. The approaching cop cars cast the two of them in red and blue light blinding them.

Goddamn pigs. The Joker shook his hair out of his eyes. Anyway. i'm not ready to call it quits just yet. We can do this some other time, okay? Before Wayne could think of a snappy comeback, the Joker flipped the knife around and slammed the handle into his jaw. It hurt more than the last time he got stabbed. For a second Wayne couldn't even move and as he lay there, the Joker stood up and made a break for the car. Wayne scrambled after him but the pain in his jaw was crippling and he stumbled. Then the cops showed up and made matters worse. They always did.

He got to his feet as the Joker emptied two clips in the direction of the police cars and scattered the cops across the highway. Wayne didn't know whether to fight or take off, but he couldn't very well take the Joker down with a storm of bullets in his way. So for once, Wayne sat back behind the wreck of the armored car and watched the Joker work. There were about ten officers with five cars between them, with more on the way. But, like Batman, the Joker was accustomed to being outnumbered. In less than three minutes, the rest of the officers were either dead or wounded and the Joker had peeled out in a cop car, leaving Wayne sitting alone on the highway. He could hear the sirens screaming.

Shit. Wayne dragged himself to his feet. He really didn't feel up to taking on ten more of Gotham's finest. Not when he was worn out and his knuckles were bleeding and every breath he took was so cold that it burned his lungs. 

So he ran.

 _i can't do this anymore._ Wayne knew how dangerous it was to think that way. He knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *i edit my fic constantly. All shit is subject to change. And yes, the weird grammar and lack of quotation marks is intentional, it's just how i write, call it stream-of-consciousness if you want. If you don't like it, that's cool. More power to ya. Thanks for reading...


	2. I Trust You To Kill Me

[I Trust You To Kill Me: Rocco DeLuca & The Burden](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pqotc5XAiNg)

At 12:30 AM, Wayne was still driving around in his father's incredibly conspicuous car, trying to make it home before someone saw him. He didn't expect to come across the wrecked police car high-centered in the middle of the road. There was a thin trail of blood leading away from it across the street. Wayne parked his car at the edge of the street and stared at the trail for a minute before he started following it.

The clown was stumbling down an alleyway off Second. He was almost through the alley when he stumbled and pitched forward onto the ground. He lay still for a moment before he dragged himself up. Wayne waited for him to reach for a weapon, but he didn't. He didn't even move as Wayne approached. He just leaned against the wall, coughing. A beam from a streetlight cut through the gap in the two buildings, casting a thin slat of light over his face. The Joker stared back at Wayne and raised his eyebrows.

Hey, sport- you've just caught Gotham's most dangerous criminal…what are you going to do next?

i'm considering my options.

Your options. The Joker laughed weakly. And those are. He gagged suddenly and doubled over on the ground. His knees hit the asphalt hard. Wayne rotated his forearm and inspected the metal blades sticking out of his armor. The edges were sharp enough to cut to the bone, he'd made sure of that.

What i'd really like to do is cut a hole in your throat and watch you bleed out.

Would you now. The Joker grinned. Well, shit. That's a pretty reasonable thing to want. He raised himself up on his knees. Go ahead, knock yourself out. Wayne looked at him.

Come on, you dumb fucking freak, he growled. i haven't got all night. Wayne rested his forefinger on the trigger.

i don't want to break the only rule i have over a wreck like you.

Fuck your rules, fuck your principles, and fuck you, the Joker snarled. Go ahead and act like you're above the rest of us, but writing your own tragic hero code of conduct isn't going to save you. As i recall, Dent was a man of principal too. He laughed and his face shone he laughed and his face shone electric.

This city is still standing because of him, Wayne retorted.

Well i hate to break it to you, but he's in the ground now, the Joker said. He was just another bad joke. Like you. And the longer you pussyfoot around and fuck it all up, the longer i'll be here, until Gotham's knee-deep in shit and shotgun shells. Or one of these days i might get tired of you and put a bullet in your head...the Joker's voice trailed off and he started coughing again. It sounded like his chest was caving in on itself. Anyway, it's your choice, he added.

It's my choice? Wayne didn't look at him.

It sure is, sugar pie, the Joker said. You know that. He tried to stand up but his legs gave out and he sank back to the ground. Wayne looked at him sitting there in the snow.

You deserve far worse than anything that i could do to you, Wayne remarked. The Joker looked at him with drowning eyes. And then he slumped back. Resigned. Wayne waited for him to stand up, but he did not try again. He didn't even try. Wayne looked at him. His bottom lip was split and thick red ropes of blood ran down his chest the cops had hit him at least once. He was shivering. He'd been shot.

Wayne turned around and walked away. He walked back to his car and put the key in the ignition and turned the radio on.

The Joker deserved to suffer. He deserved it. He'd killed so many innocent people that any god would deem him Unforgivable. He was too far gone. But even if the Joker bled to death in the alley that night and order was restored in Gotham and the People joined together in celebration, they would still hate Batman. They would still hunt him and criticize him and badger Gordon to bring him down until the next master criminal arrived and declared war on the city and the whole thing started all over again. In the end, Batman would still end up hated and alone.

Wayne wasn't really sure why he drove his car back to the alley, but before he realized it he was standing in front of his nemesis again. Making poor decisions. The man on the ground didn't speak or look up at him.

Get up. Wayne grabbed the Joker's arm and pulled him to his feet. He didn't resist at all—he seemed to be having trouble just staying conscious.

What are you doing? he whispered.

i have no idea. Wayne took out a pair of handcuffs and pulled the other man's hands together behind his back. He smiled as the metal tightened around his wrists.

That's nice, he whispered.

You're really sick, Wayne muttered under his breath. You've got problems.

Bat fetish fuck telling me i have problems, the Joker said softly. He snapped his head back suddenly 

catching Wayne in the jaw

hitting the spot that was already bruising and the pain crackled up the side of Wayne's face. His knees buckled but he didn't fall. The Joker tried to pull away, but Wayne punched the bullet wound on his arm a few times and he stopped struggling.

Don't do that again, Wayne said. He dragged the Joker back to the car and fished the keys out of his coat. Get in the car.

i don't get in the car with strangers, the clown protested, digging his heels into the ground.

i'm not a stranger. Wayne slammed the Joker's forehead into the window and shoved him into the backseat. He did not speak or fight back again; he just sank down he sank against the seat and closed his eyes. Wayne slammed the door shut and got into the driver's seat. He could feel his heart beating at the back of his throat.

Bruce Wayne sat in his father's car half a mile from the penthouse with his arch nemesis in the back seat and he wondered what the fuck he was going to do. The left side of his face was throbbing and his lungs ached when he breathed and he was still hung over.

Wayne put the key in the ignition and turned it and the engine purred.

Listen to that, the Joker mumbled. She's whispering. Wayne almost smiled. Why were you driving this car around in the snow? The Joker asked.

i…don't know, Wayne said. The Joker grinned.

She's too beautiful for you.

You're right. Wayne put the car in gear and started driving.


	3. This Devil's Workday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head canon, Wayne is a Beatles fan. Also broadway musicals.

[This Devil's Workday: Modest Mouse](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28NWEN7MrpM)

He was out cold by the time Wayne pulled into the garage. Outside the wind was picking up again and stirring up the snowdrifts and sheets of snow floated across the road like ghosts. Wayne turned the car off and sat for a moment with his head resting on the steering wheel and listened to the silence. He didn't hear enough silence anymore. He hurt for it and still hurt for it

and he breathed it in. The utter stupidity of his actions was beginning to dawn on him he breathed it in.

He breathed the cold in and admitted to himself that he'd made his life even more spectacularly complicated than it was before and he’d have to live with his actions. His previous mentor and/or temporary arch nemesis had once told him that his compassion was his weakness. And so it was. So it fucking was. Wayne took a deep breath and counted to five and out of the car. He had to count to five again and count to five again before he could open the passenger door.

The Joker was sitting with his head propped up against the window. His breathing was shallow and ragged and it seemed like he was going into shock. Wayne stood there looking at him, thinking about what his father would've said about the red stains on the seats. He was going into shock.

Fuck. Wayne grabbed the collar of the Joker's coat and dragged him out of the car. He briefly considered leaving his nemesis lying in a heap on the concrete and walking away like nothing had happened. But he couldn't. So despite his exhaustion and pain and utter disgust with what he was doing, Wayne managed to get the Joker out of the garage and into the elevator. 

Outside the snowdrifts floated on and he breathed the cold in.

Wayne had a meeting in seven hours. He couldn't remember exactly what the meeting in question entailed, or what he was supposed to talk about, but he did know that the corporate clones at Wayne Enterprises weren't the ones sitting in his bathroom at two in the morning on a Sunday  
on the Lord's Day up to their elbows in blood. A bullet had grazed the Joker's ribs and the wound was difficult to bandage and he was still dangerously close to being hypothermic. His skin was cool to the touch bleached white beneath the paint,  
blood splattered and bleached white. He looked closer to dead. 

His clothes were all completely soaked so Wayne stripped him down to his boxers (purple of course. Silk) and dried him off before attempting to wake him. It took a minute or two but Wayne eventually got the other man to open his eyes, rested a hand on the back of his head to steady him. 

Can you try to sit up, Wayne asked. The Joker blinked, and focussed on him. i can help but you need to try, Wayne told him. You're hypothermic. i need to put this shirt on you okay. The Joker sighed faintly and made an attempt at bracing himself up on one elbow. He gave no indication as to whether he recognized Wayne or not but he did let Wayne guide him up against the wall without resisting even went so far as to pick up his feet as Wayne wrangled him into the sweatpants. He lost consciousness again soon after and Wayne had to catch him before he slid to the floor.

Once Wayne was certain all the bleeding was under control dosed the Joker up on morphine and and turned up the heater, he took a moment to get some painkillers into his own bloodstream. His jaw was bruising and throbbing like hell's fire like  
someone had driven a nail into the bone and it was killing him. He popped two Percocet and taped up his knuckles and left the Joker lying on his side on the bathroom floor with a blanket draped over him a towel folded under his head his top leg bent at a ninety degree angle and his back to the bathtub so he couldn’t roll over even though he was still completely unconscious and drugged all to hell. Wayne realized belatedly that with all the blood the clown had lost he was probably dehydrated but Wayne had used his last IV and forgotten to order another. So he left a bottle of gatorade on the floor above the Joker's head and decided that he didn't care that he'd just hope for the best (whatever that was).

Wayne's next decision was that he had about half an hour before the Percocet kicked in, so he locked the bedroom down with every high-tech security device he owned and collapsed on the sofa in the living room. As he lay there, the oxycodone crept into his bloodstream and sent his head spinning and for a while he stared at the ceiling and listened to his iPod and forgot what a clusterfuck his life had become. He drifted off halfway his head spinning through The White Album before he started to wonder what the hell he had done and what it meant and what the hell he was going to do next.


	4. Hello, Operator

[Hello, Operator: The White Stripes](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MuP03ASXMy0)

When he woke up, it was snowing again falling full and thick and deep. He didn't mind the snow much because it muffled the constant roar that rose up from the city the constant roar that rose up. The Percocet was still running strong but he could only count on two more hours before the pain crept up on him again. It was hard to sit up like someone was holding him back against the cushions like there was a weight on his chest. Dragging him down. When he flipped the switch the light rocked off the walls and he had to sit with his eyes closed until he adjusted. 

Wayne took a bottle of gatorade from the table and a sweatshirt from the floor. He pulled it on and stood at his bedroom door, opening the locks. There were five of them in all. He opened the locks and walked across his bedroom floor across the shag carpet into the bathroom when he walked in he was himself without the mask or anything to hide behind and he couldn't hide. He didn't even care anymore he was so tired of keeping up the whole secret identity charade because  
at the end of the day he was still a man and only a man.

The Joker was sprawled out on the floor with his cuffed hands up behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He rolled his head to the side and glanced at Wayne and rolled back smiling.

Bruce fucking Wayne, he murmured. That explains the car, don't it. His wrists were rubbed raw and bleeding.

Did you ever suspect it was me? Wayne asked. He set the gatorade bottle where the Joker could reach it crossed the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. He was out of rubbing alcohol.

Sure i did, his nemesis rasped, but honestly confirming Batman's secret identity has never been high on my list of priorities. The Joker was watching Wayne with narrowed eyes and he couldn't hide. You were driving that beautiful car around in the fucking snow, the clown said after a moment.

i know, i'm a terrible person, Wayne said, taking a bottle of hydrogen peroxide down from the shelf. That bullet hole in your arm is going to need stitches. The Joker was lying there cold and damp and dirty and still looking at him. Through him.

And why do you suddenly give a good god damn, the Joker asked. What do you want. Wayne shrugged.

i don't know, he said. The clown chuckled and coughed a little.

Went to all this trouble and you don't even know.

Maybe i didn't have a plan, Wayne said. Surely you can relate to that. The Joker's eyes narrowed again, grew cold and damp and dirty staring him down and he could not hide.

At least i've got reasons. What've you got, Bruce Wayne? i mean, besides a fuckin' god complex...Wayne ran his hands through his hair.

Look, let's discuss this later. It's four in the morning.

Is it. Shit. Time flies.

It sure does, Wayne said. Now i'm going back to sleep before i pass out. There's a couch in the other room, if you want...i don't care. i have to go to sleep. The Joker smiled.

Nope, i'm good here.

Really.

Sure. There's heated floors.

i got those installed in the fall. When i started falling asleep in here on a weekly basis. Wayne pulled a box of gauze out of the cabinet and hit the dimmer switch until the light bulb cast out a glow that didn't reach down to the floor. Drink some of that gatorade before you sleep. 

i'll try. 

i'm locking the door. 

Okay.

Christ, you're cooperative tonight. Wayne studied the dim outline that separated the Joker from the wall and the floor. i thought you would've at least taken a swing at me by now.

It's the morphine, the Joker mumbled. i can feel it. 

Right. i forgot.

You should have left me there, the Joker called after him.

Wayne didn't answer, instead he shut the door and locked it and stood on the other side looking at the space under the door. The space was black like the bathroom light was off but he knew that it wasn't quite. Almost, but not quite.


	5. Daylight

_"I could zig zag and zig 'em again for the badge dream sparkle in my brick wall windows, another thick installment of one night in Gotham without the wretched 'Houston we have a problem' attached to the festive batch of city goblins."_

—[Daylight: Aesop Rock](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iujjGCoF4g)

Wayne hung around the living room watching television until the dark receded dull gray light from the winter sun reached in through the shades. When he breathed in his heart fluttered and sped up for a moment before it settled back down and the dampness of his shirt sent chills crawling across his skin.

His father's car with the red stains on the back seats.

Wayne sat up and pulled his T-shirt off over his head and his heartbeat fluttered. He leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes and waited for the spins to stop he turned off the television and breathed slowly and waited until he didn't have to fight it and he could stand up. The pain hadn't come back yet but by morning it would creep up as the oxycodone worked its way out.

Wayne took another shirt from under the coffee table and put it on. It smelled like sandalwood and classy skank like the girls he brought home in his father's car like the girls who sucked him off while he sat on the couch and listened to the radio.

There was bottle of kaidan on the coffee table and a half empty bottle of water with the goldfish on it. He picked them up and walked across the room to his bedroom door and as he walked the city light trickled in through the shades across the carpet and his shadow followed alongside. He opened the locks on the door and walked into his bedroom to face what he had to face to get it over with before the painkillers wore off and the guilt and the regret sunk back in. His father's car with the red stains on the back seats.

The Joker had made it to the sofa with an unlit cigarette dangling from his fingers. The paint around his eyes had run and pulled streaks of black down his cheeks and the side of his face was covered in dried blood. He lifted his head and looked Wayne over. There was a clarity in his eyes that the morphine had taken away but it was wearing off.

You here to interrogate me? The Joker asked, smiling.

Yeah, you'd love that, wouldn't you. Wayne muttered, opening the bottle. He took a single pill and held it out. Take this. The Joker eyed the pill doubtfully.

It's kadian, Wayne said. The Joker's eyes flicked up to him and back down to the pill and up again. Look, Wayne said, i don't want to fight. And i don't want to. Hurt you. He sat down in the chair closest to the fire and ran his hands through his sweat slicked hair.

Then why are you doing this. The growl in the Joker's voice was coming back as the morphine wore off. What do you want? He asked. Wayne considered this.

i want a time out.

W-what? The Joker laughed. Haven't had one of those since the second fucking grade. He coughed and it sounded deep and when he breathed in his lungs crackled.

Look, Wayne said, for the past three weeks, all we've done is rattle around the city tearing each other to shreds. i look like shit, i feel like shit...and i can't keep fighting day after day after day. i'm not like you. The clown raised his eyebrows.

What do you mean.

i want a truce, Wayne said. ( _i'm not like you._ )

A truce? the Joker spat. Are you nuts.

i'm starting to think so, Wayne said softly, more to himself than the other man. Listen, if you want to settle this, we'll settle it, but all i ask is that you give me a few days off. Then we can go on beating the Christ out of each other until we're both dead. i don't care. Either way you're really in no position to argue, and i'm going to keep you here until i figure out what to do. The Joker cocked his head. He kept picking at the scabs on his arms and it seemed like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it even as the cuts began to open up and bleed.

If you want to get rid of me, then turn me over to the pigs, he said. It's that simple.

They can't handle you.

You're right. A smug little smirk had settled into the Joker 's mouth. He interlaced his fingers with the cigarette still between them and stretched his arms out until his shoulders popped and the handcuffs clinked metallic.

And you know who i am, Wayne pointed out. That changes everything.

That is your fault, the Joker said.

It is. Wayne looked back at him into the glare. But i've told you what i want. That's all i want. _i'm not like you._ The Joker wasn't smiling anymore but he still seemed amused. There were two perfect rings of purple bruises encircling his wrists and he picked at the little cuts where the metal had dug in too hard.

So what do you intend to do with me. i don't think you've thought this whole thing through very well. That's not like you.

i'm going to put you back in Arkham.

Great fucking plan, Bruce Wayne, the Joker chuckled. Temporary fix. It only took me three weeks to get out. i'll do it again. You can't stop me. He started coughing harder and it sounded deep.

This is true, Wayne said. Do you want to go back there. The Joker shrugged.

i don't care. All my stuff's there.

i don't even know if it's worth my time, Wayne said quietly. Really.

My toothbrush...my. Best of INXS.

i could always keep you locked up in the garage until i decide, Wayne suggested. The other man nodded in agreement.

You could. You could do that.

Yeah, but i don't think i will, Wayne said. That's my agenda and my. Intentions. The Joker squinted and looked at Wayne like he was trying to see through him.

You're high, he said. What have you been taking.

Percocet, Wayne said, tapping his jaw. i think you bruised the bone.

That's what i was aiming for, sport.

Really. Wayne leaned back in the chair with the bottle in his hand and watched the fire cast shadows across the floor.

You know that once i can stand, i'll find a way out, right, the Joker said lazily. Or you could let me go if that would be easier for you

No, Wayne said. You're not leaving. Sergeant Morphine will see to that.

Sergeant Morphine. The Joker's eyes lit up. He glanced down at the needle punches in his arms. We go way back, he and i.

i believe you.

So if you're not letting me leave, does that make me a prisoner? The Joker asked. Wayne considered this.

Yeah, i guess so. The Joker smiled. It was the kind of smile that was dirty and his face shone electric. In that case, that's fine. He settled back against the arm of the sofa with his arms above his head. What happens after this.

i haven't thought about that yet, Wayne said. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Fair enough. The Joker stretched out and shook his hair out of his eyes dripping black down his cheeks. Look. You didn't have to kill me, he said. But you didn't have to save me. Wayne's throat tightened up.

i know. But i couldn't just. Leave.

Yes, the Joker said. Yes you could have.

i guess i realized something.

What? A chill crawled up Wayne's spine even though the thermostat read 78 he still felt cold.

i don't know.

You are screwed, Bruce Wayne, the Joker said, pausing to cough. You have painted yourself into a corner. Just. Know that.

Believe me, Wayne said, i do. Now take this. He dropped the pill into the other man's and held out the bottle of water. The Joker held the pill between thumb and forefinger, inspecting it.

This is for cancer patients, he remarked. You've got the hookup.

Of course i do, Wayne said. If it wasn't for him, i'd be dead right now.

That so. The Joker popped the kadian and drank the water. The red paint around his lips rubbed off on the plastic. Any chance you could score me some Oxy 40s, he asked.

You shouldn't fuck around with those, Wayne said sternly. Trust me, i know.

Dramamine?

Keep it up.

That's what she said. Wayne turned away and bit the corner of his lip to keep from smiling. Go back to sleep. He turned on the television. What do you want to watch. The Joker shrugged again. Smiling still with the red paint smeared across his mouth.

Porn...

Wayne bit down harder but he felt the corners of his mouth turn up. He didn't know why. He didn't know. He picked up the remote and changed the channel to TLC.

Ah, why you gotta do me like that, the Joker mumbled.

What, you don't like Jon & Kate Plus 8? Wayne handed the remote to the other man and walked out the door before the Joker saw the grin on his face. He didn't know whether it was the Percocet or the exhaustion or something about the Joker that had made him smile but he couldn't stop.

He wandered into the kitchen with the tiled floors and the stark marble counters that felt like ice brushing against his skin. All the power and all the pain was still pushing at him and his cell phone was ringing off in the distance somewhere because he hadn't shown up to work but he couldn't stop. He took the French press down from the shelf and the coffee out of the cabinet and he didn't know what to do. He didn't know. The pain was there still pushing down into his veins but he was still smiling and he

couldn't stop.


	6. Ruiner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains sex and things of a sexual nature and cocks. Gayness is hot.

[Ruiner: Nine Inch Nails](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RkT-aMgZvQI)

By mid morning there were twelve missed calls on Wayne's cell phone. In the end he had to call the secretary that he was sleeping with and beg her to smooth things over. Which she did. She always did. He didn't like begging but she always made him do it she always enjoyed making him do it and he did. Sacrificed his dignity for the sake of convenience. By mid morning he was sitting in his bedroom in front of the fire eating a bowl of Lucky Charms while the Joker was sprawled across the sofa picking the gravel out of the scrapes on his arms and they were talking. He was sitting there high as a kite off of Tylox eating Lucky Charms and talking to the Joker and talking to the man who was tearing down the city that he slaved to protect who had taken so much from him. But Wayne couldn't stay away. He couldn't.

He was looking for answers but the Joker didn't seem to have any.

Can you at least tell me who you are? Wayne asked. The Joker smiled and the handcuffs clinked against each other metallic. A drop of blood appeared at his wrist.

That's nothing interesting, he said.

It's not? Wayne handed the Joker a paper towel. He pressed it against the wound on his wrist and the blood soaked in.

Nope. It's everything after that. The sunlight was slatting in through the shades and across the floors. One of the lines ran up the sofa and cut across the Joker 's cheek illuminating the red and the blood clinging there to the scars. Underneath the paint there were shadows under his eyes and his skin was pale. Underneath the paint he looked very young.

Do you want some cereal, Wayne asked him. The Joker shook his head. Do you want anything. Wayne asked. Persisting. i can get whatever you want. The Joker shook his head again.

i'm fine. There was a faint tremble starting in his hands but Wayne could only see it when he was holding perfectly still. 

No you're not. You haven't eaten in days. That's why you're shaking.

i know, the Joker said wearily. Why the hell do you care.

i couldn't tell you, Wayne replied. Do you remember when you last ate.

Thursday, the Joker said. 

Christ, Wayne muttered. ( _five days._ ) No wonder.

Why do you care what happens to me. The Joker looked at Wayne. He'd painted his face again and his fingers were covered in white and black streaks. Wayne wasn't sure how he'd managed to do it with the handcuffs on.

What's the point of doing that, Wayne asked. i already know what you look like. The Joker shrugged.

i was bored. There were bruises and cuts and pinpricks covering his forearms. This is a nice ashtray, the Joker said, pointing to the crystal ashtray on the coffee table.

Thanks, Wayne said quietly. The sun shone through it and cast speckles of light across the bedroom. 

Why do you have it. The Joker pulled a perfectly rolled joint from his trench coat. You don't smoke. 

i bang a lot of models, Wayne explained. Most of them like to smoke after sex.

Really. What's that like.

What?

Banging lots of models. The Joker put the the joint up to his mouth and took a lighter from his pocket.

It's all right. i get laid twice a week on average. It depends.

Yeah, by strung out little anorexic bitches who'll suck your dick for a fifth of Regalia Gold and ride home in a helicopter. He took a long pull and it crackled like a popping coal.

Exactly. What's wrong with that.

Nothing's wrong with that, Bruce Wayne, the Joker said. i'm sure it's fun. i just think it's funny that as far as getting tail is concerned, the only difference between you and me is that i pay my whores five hundred an hour and you pay your whores in a night on the town. Wayne shrugged.

i guess you're right. And you know what. It's worth it. The Joker smiled and tapped the joint on the ashtray.

i'm not denying that. You wanna hit this? Wayne shook his head.

That's not really my thing.

It should be, the Joker said. It would probably do you a lot of good. He breathed out and puffed a perfectly round ball of smoke into the air. Wayne felt his hands clench into fists there was a small eye of anger growing somewhere down deep and he didn't know why. The Joker always did that to him and he didn't know why.

You're a wreck, you know that. Wayne's voice rose a little bit but he wasn't shouting. You're nothing but an overgrown street punk with no cause and no direction

i need direction, the Joker mumbled, blowing out a perfect smoke ring. It drifted back and into the light and broke apart.

And everything is a joke to you, Wayne went on. Life is just a joke to you. 

Bingo. Now you're catching on. The Joker started to cough again and put the joint out in the ashtray.

Well it's not a joke to me, Wayne said. All i'm trying to do is help people. These people. i wanted to show them that someone cares. That i would fight on their side. But ever since i started this whole Protector of Gotham charade everything has gone from bad to worse to hell on fucking earth.

Oh please, the Joker sighed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. You've been off your game ever since i torched your oh-so-unavailable girlfriend

Shut up. Wayne put the cereal bowl on the table.

The one you were bird dogging for a while. What was her name again. Wayne stood up and swung and clocked the Joker so hard that his head snapped back and he fell off the couch. Wayne hauled him up by his collar and held him there they were doing it again with the Joker taunting him and he was blinded by rage throwing punches but he couldn't stop.

She was mine, he growled. And you. You single handedly ruined any chance i had at a normal life with her

A normal life. The Joker chuckled. Oh believe me, you gave up that chance a long time ago. Around the same time you started creeping around Gotham's rooftops dressed like a flying mammal...Wayne pressed his thumbs down on the Joker 's throat.

She was mine, you ratfuck piece of shit. He pressed down harder breaking the tiny blood vessels that would form bruises in the shape of his fingers. She was all i had, she was all that i had

Christ...the Joker looked at Wayne serenely looked at him choking as Wayne's hands closed around his throat. You think that she could've saved you? Do you think she even wanted to save you? His voice was shrilling up as he gasped softly but couldn't feel the pain couldn't feel Wayne's hands crushing his trachea, he was numb and stupid from the morphine he couldn't feel it.

Yeah, just like that, the Joker gasped, picking at his belt buckle.

Knock it off, you sick fuck. Wayne held the Joker at arm's length and slammed him up against the wall choking numbed and stupid from the morphine in his veins.

Look at me and tell me that you don't want me, the Joker said. Tell me that, and i'll stop. Wayne’s mouth had gone dry. Look at me, the Joker ordered. Wayne looked at him against the wall with blood streaming from his lip. Wayne looked and he couldn't hide the want in his eyes couldn't hide the truth.

And then the Joker was kissing him and he was standing there kissing him completely undone high as a kite holding the chain that connected the Joker's wrists.

God. Wayne's heart was pounding up in his throat. Is this happening—not happening? He asked. i can't even...  


Relax. You're so high strung. The Joker gently pushed his hips against Wayne's leg, rutting against him. He shifted ever-so-slightly to the right and rocked once  
slowly  
pressing their cocks together and Wayne wanted him to, didn't know why he was getting hard so quickly or even how long it had been since he'd felt that hard (like a diamond in a fucking ice storm, Wayne) or how the hell the Joker was doing this to him all he knew was that the other man’s  
face was buried in his neck nuzzling gently so he felt the paint smearing across his skin. And it must have startled something up because after a moment Wayne couldn't take it anymore and he had dragged the Joker to the floor and started pulling his clothes off pinned him to the floor by the handcuffs and pulled his clothes off. He wound the Joker's hair in his fingers and tugged hard until the Joker's head arched back and he closed his eyes he bit down on the Joker's skin and left bruises on his shoulders and the Joker smiled and took it. He took all of it. 

Before Wayne never would have guessed that the Joker had an amazing body. His stomach was flat, his arms and legs heavily muscled, his ass rounded and toned like an athlete's. Wayne understood then why he had so much trouble keeping up with the man—he spent a great deal of his time running for his life. Wayne squeezed the Joker's thigh before trailing his fingers across the fine thatch of hair below the Joker's navel. The clown hummed and tipped his head back as Wayne reached between his legs to stroke tentatively down the length of his cock (no wonder he was so vain, with a cock like a porn star's) and then again with more pressure.

Harder,

the Joker gasped so Wayne obliged and tightened his grip both on the Joker's cock and on the back of his neck drawing  
him in drawing him closer  
so that Wayne could suck another mark onto the crest of his pale throat  
so that Wayne could force that gasp again from his red mouth.

He seemed truly at home being manhandled and inflicted upon but it was this easy submission that pulled Wayne back, that dulled the urgent fire in him to a hot glow and the bites slowly became kisses  
slow wet mouth marks that Wayne spread over the Joker’s collarbone and his chest  tasting the grime on his surfaces the smell  
of sweat and blood and gunpowder dripped off of him it snaked down between them and it surrounded them and they were both numb. Wayne took the key from his pocket and reached for the handcuffs.

No, the Joker said, leave them on.

Are you sure that's—

Leave them on.

Fine, whatever gets you off, Wayne said, slowing his thoughts down long enough to make a mental note to be very, very careful with the cuffs, remembering that if he was too rough, he could end up damaging the Joker's wrists or dislocating his shoulder and Wayne didn't want to hurt him  
not then  
and not like that. 

He raised himself up on his knees and cupped his hand under the other man's jaw tilting his head up. Tell me right away if your wrists start to hurt, he ordered, fingering the heavy chain. These aren’t meant to be comfortable, you know.

Sure. Now shut up and tell me what you want me to do, the Joker growled, tugging at Wayne's belt. So Wayne told him. Wayne told him everything.

And he did not resist when the Joker went down on him, kneeling and unzipping the fly of his jeans at the same time. It was slick as hell, Wayne had to give him that. He blinked and found himself staring down at Gotham’s most notorious killer with his hands cuffed and his full red lips quirked up in a wicked grin and dark eyes shining reflecting the glow of the fire. It really was too much. 

And then the Joker's beautiful mouth was locked tight around him making Wayne's heart stutter when the Joker actually went to work the heat shot through Wayne's stomach into his limbs like he'd stuck his cock in an electrical socket. It became obvious to him then that his nemesis was a veteran at sucking dick. Wayne didn't know if he should be surprised or not. 

When it came to the Joker he just never knew.

Wayne reached down and took hold of the Joker's hair again intending to pull but his hand gentled and instead he stroked his fingers against the other man's skull, lazily, reverently, gasping softly as the Joker’s tongue slid over his cock again and again tracing delicate little paths down the veins before moving up to circle the tip.

You're incredible, Wayne murmured, watching him. This is. My God. The Joker hummed in response and the tiny vibrations sent Wayne's head reeling harder than any painkiller could and all of a sudden Wayne couldn't stand it anymore and had to fuck him, had to bend him over the sofa and grind him right into it. 

The skinny little girls that Wayne brought home. They fucked him like they were fucking a couch fucking another bottle of Crown Royal but they never wanted him. The Joker fucked like an animal. He fucked like a god. Like he wanted it more than anything else. And the Joker of all people turned out to be a very good listener. He took direction. He took everything Wayne had and threw it right back at him threw it back into his face knelt there in front of him naked and panting on the rug and begged. He begged like a dog.

Hit me, he kept saying, please it's okay i want you to hit me, but at first Wayne couldn’t. When he finally gave in and hit him it was with one hand cushioning the side of the Joker's face, steadying his skull against the blows that Wayne reduced to less than half strength just enough to leave the skin pink. Wayne didn't want to hurt him ( _not like that_ ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Edit 07/07/14:** i dialed up the sex a bit. P0rn ftw
> 
>  **Edit 12/16/14:** I CHANGED THE TITLE SONG AFTER ALMOST 6 YEARS. Will i ever learn to leave well enough alone? Probably not. Anyways after seeing Nine Inch Nails live i came to the conclusion that Ruiner is more appropriate for this chapter.


	7. Galaxie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. For all the time i took on this fic, it's still not done. The next chapter is close to completion, the last...is still one huge clusterfuck. i hope to finish soon.
> 
> **Also:** There's a warning for this chapter, i guess, for (fairly) graphic descriptions of illness and bodily fluids and such. Thanks for sticking around dudes, and thank you for reading.
> 
> **Edit 06/15:** Had to get some of the reallys...fuckin reallys everywhere...

[Galaxie: Blind Melon](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YAFMN04Isno)

When Wayne awoke from his opiate coma, cold light was cutting in through the window and the Joker wasn't there. He was not passed out on the sofa where Wayne had left him, where they had both fallen asleep sweaty and exhausted while the coals crackled down in the fireplace.

He sat up and cracked his neck and checked the clock. He'd been asleep for three and a half hours. He stood slowly and picked his shirt up from the floor, waited for the pain to nag at him to race up and down his nerves but it didn't come. The night before, as they lay entangled on the sofa the Joker asked him if he regretted what they'd done.  
No, Wayne had said. i don't _(i don't regret it i don't_  
_regret it_ i  
_do not_  
_regret it)_

Oddly enough, when Wayne thought of regret, when he thought of guilt, the first thing that sprang to his mind was the dent in the hood of his father's Galaxie where he'd slammed the Joker 's head into the metal. He thought of the puddles of blood on the back seats. He'd have to rip out the material the Original Material and reupholster the entire thing.

Of all the cars in his life, Wayne's father had loved the Galaxie the most.

The pain began to creep up on him up through his limbs but it was dull and bearable and it took him by surprise, to wake up and feel Better instead of Worse. To not know or care what happened to the People of Gotham that day. He stood up and went over to the full-length mirror. The bruise on his the jaw was deep blue and dark but it didn't hurt as much, open wounds were slowly healing over into the other scars into the crisscrosses of purple pink and white that tracked up and down his body. The lacerations on his arm and back still needed stitches; the gash on his forearm was about two inches long and deep and the edges of the wound were the jagged. But he was healing. He would heal.

He felt better than he had in weeks.

The bathroom door was open and the light was on. The Joker still hadn't eaten anything and had already been dosed up on the finest morphine money could buy, so Wayne wasn't really surprised when he found him sitting half-conscious on the bathroom floor vomiting in the toilet. He leaned against the doorframe. 

His knuckles ached and he didn't want to deal, but at least he was only dealing with pain and pain never lied. At least it was open and honest and easily fixed and he knew how to work with it. He of all people knew how to deal when things got messy every now and then. The percocet was wearing off he was coming down and it was leaving him but he wasn't afraid. Wayne knew that the Joker probably felt fifty times worse.

That many times at least.

The pity crept up on Wayne and dug its hooks into him. He went over.

How's it going, champion.

The Joker laughed weakly.

That's funny. i didn't know that you had a sense of humor, he said. He looked a hell of a lot worse than the day before. Bruce Wayne's got a sense of humor, everybody, the Joker went on, boys and girls, there's hope for our tragic hero yet...

His skin was bleached white even beneath the paint and the shadows under his eyes were darker than bruises. Wayne glanced at the door and back and the flicker of damned compassion rose back up. 

Is it alright if i stay, he asked.

It’s fine. The Joker was clinging to the toilet and Wayne realized that he was probably having trouble staying upright, he was already so weak.

You could have woken me up. Wayne sat down behind him. You must be more than exhausted. The Joker made a dismissive noise. 

Nothing i haven’t dealt with before, sport.

Right. 

The Joker loosened his grip on the porcelain, but after a minute he retched again and spat up a thin stream of bile. 

You know that's fucking disgusting, Wayne said, pulling a piece of toilet paper from the roll. Here.

Sure is. The Joker smiled like it was nothing and wiped his mouth, smeared the red paint across his lips. i'm sorry about this, by the way.

Don't apologize, i was just making an observation, Wayne told him. Bodily fluids don’t bother me anymore. i've seen a man's kneecaps explode and spray pieces of bone everywhere. He got to his feet and turned the cold water tap on at the sink. As he filled a glass half full the water ran across the cuts on his fingers. It burned. The percocet was wearing off he was coming down hard sinking. 

Does your stomach hurt at all? He asked. The Joker shook his head.

i’m just nauseated, he said. Probably from all the painkillers you've given me...sometimes opioids make me feel sick. That, and my blood sugar's pretty low.

You were in a lot of pain and i needed to sedate you. i didn’t know what else to do. And you should have mentioned that you have problems with morphine before you started popping all of my pills, Wayne pointed out. The Joker shrugged. Wayne put the glass where the Joker could reach it and sat behind him again so he could lean back if he wanted to. How long have you been in here? 

Forty five minutes. Something like that. 

That long. i. Wayne bit his lip. i think i should take you to the hospital. You’ll get dehydrated fast.

i don’t really care what you do with me, the Joker told him. Wayne considered it for a long moment.

We’ll see how you’re doing in an hour or two, he said at last. If you can keep fluid down by then i think you'll be fine. 

You took the cuffs off, the other man said suddenly, fingering the bandages around his wrists. Why.

Your wrists were bleeding. Wayne rested his chin lightly on the top of the Joker’s head. You wore those handcuffs for almost two days.

So you trust me?

Sort of. Wayne shrugged. That, and right now i could knock you down by pushing you. The Joker hummed and leaned back a little more until his head touched Wayne's chest. His hair was drenched in sweat and the paint was dripping off his chin, pulling lines of black down through the white then dripping off. He shone slick.

i’m going to vomit, he said flatly. Wayne helped him lean over the bowl and got his hair out of the way. He threw up bile the first two times and then nothing after that but he didn't stop. 

Easy, Wayne said. Take it easy. You’re dry heaving. The Joker coughed and winced. 

Thank you, Sherlock Holmes, he hissed. Wayne ignored him and just held him steady. He could feel the Joker's ribs under the skin. He had grown thinner over the months, but all the muscles in his shoulders stood out, his arms were hard and prison-ripped from years of throwing punches. Before their recent intimate acquaintances Wayne had never noticed how cut the Joker was; it was always hidden under his silk shirts and suspenders and trench coats. He really was good looking. Wayne caught himself wishing that he had more time to appreciate the Joker under less dire circumstances. Wishing that they had more time. 

That morphine got right on top of you, Wayne remarked. i should have been more conservative with it, i'm sorry. The Joker spat into the toilet.

You didn't know, he pointed out. He tried to spit again but it made him cough and the coughing set off another round of painful-sounding heaves. Wayne rested his hand on the Joker's back and rubbed the flat of his palm across the other man's shoulders.

Does it make it worse if i touch you, he asked.

Nah, the Joker sighed. It feels good. 

Okay, i won’t stop. Wayne pressed his thumb into a knot at the base of the Joker’s neck briefly and went back to rubbing up and down his spine to waiting for him to relax, and breathe. 

Try to drink a little, Wayne said after the Joker had settled down. If you keep on like this you could tear your esophagus and then i’ll have no choice but to bring you in. The Joker did drink a few sips before he closed the toilet lid and leaned over it to rest.

i’m going to take a look at you, Wayne said to him. Check your vitals. Is that okay. 

Go ahead. Wayne pressed his fingertips against the other man's neck and found the pulse in his carotid artery. He only needed a few seconds to get the feel of it, then to check the Joker’s respiratory rate and temperature. All three were a bit higher than usual but within acceptable ranges given the state he was in. 

You're good at this, the Joker remarked once Wayne had finished. You'd make one hell of an EMT. Wayne laughed.

Maybe. How much pain are you in?

Painkillers have worn off a little. The Joker rolled his head to one side cracking his neck and a series of tiny snaps echoed in the quietness of the room. The fact that he had admitted anything at all probably meant he was hurting but there was nothing Wayne could do nothing except keep him comfortable and give him water. 

You know i can't give you morphine or anything else, right. Not until you've got something in your stomach. Wayne glanced at his phone again, noting the time so he could do some drug math. i’m not sure if i have anything for nausea besides dramamine, he said. And i don’t think that would interact well with what’s already in your system. You should probably be on a saline drip.

The Joker didn't respond.

So i could have medication brought here, Wayne went on, but given the weather i’m not sure how long that would take. It could be an hour, maybe more. The Joker nodded. And the other option is for me to take you to a hospital or to Arkham and they would treat you as soon as possible—

No. The Joker’s voice sharpened, probably more than he meant it to. i don't, i don't—

All right. It’s all right. Wayne smoothed his hand across the Joker’s shoulders. i didn’t think you would want to go. 

Do you want me to go. Is that it. The Joker asked. You’re tired of dealing with me? 

Stop, Wayne said. i just hate watching you hurt and not being able to do anything. If you get much worse i’d rather you be somewhere where you can be taken care of properly, for your own sake. The Joker made a little dismissive motion with the hand that wasn’t clinging to the toilet bowl.

You’re handling it well enough. Better than they would, actually.

Is it that bad? Wayne asked. At Arkham, i mean. 

Well you met Doctor Crane didn’t you. The Joker smiled crookedly. We got along okay. Wayne didn’t know how to respond to that, so he pushed the glass of water towards the Joker again. The glass scraped against the tiles as the Joker picked it up and drank. His hand was unsteady and some of the water slipped over the rim spilling onto Wayne’s sweatpants. He set the glass down and shivered, swallowed hard. Wayne gathered his hair and held it and rubbed gentle circles across his back.

After a minute or two the Joker lurched forward and heaved, bringing up little more than saliva and clear fluid. It sounded awful. Wayne kept his hand on the other man's shoulder and reached up to flush the toilet.

You’re actually worried about me aren’t you, the Joker coughed. Now that's funny. He was breathing hard but his mouth was twitching at the corners like he was trying not to laugh. i've been worse, he continued. This is nothing. He dropped his head to his knees. You think this is bad? Just a fucking. Skinned knee on the goddamn playground, he said. That's all this is. It's nothing compared to what they can do to you. What they will do. He coughed and his lungs crackled. Wayne couldn't help but stare at him, wonder what the fuck went on in his head what it was like to be inside of it

living it. 

You're crazy, he said quietly

No i'm not, the Joker said. His faded gaze sharpened for a moment and he was almost angry. i'm not, he said, more quietly. i’m

Okay, you're not, Wayne interrupted. But listen to me for a second, please. He moved around and sat across from the Joker  
looked at him, forced himself to look into the black holes of the Joker’s eyes. Listen, you're really messed up this time; you can't make light of it or ignore it until it goes away. And there aren’t any psych ward doctors or monitors or feeding tubes to hold you together. Wayne paused to tuck a stray lock of hair behind the Joker’s ear. There’s just me...and there’s you. And i will do what i can. If that’s what you want, i will do everything i can. 

The Joker's eyes shifted to just over Wayne's shoulder for a moment before snapping back to him

pinning him

sizing him up.

When he was Batman, Wayne could stare cold down the double barrel that was the Joker's gaze for hours but as himself Wayne found it harder and harder to keep all his walls in place.

i know that you're used to feeling this way, Wayne continued, but i can still help you, if you'll let me. He put his scarred hands on the Joker's thighs and scooted him closer, until they were knee to knee. i want to. i can call right now and get something to stop the nausea and then you’ll be fine.

Do you care about me, the Joker asked.

i think i've made that pretty obvious, Wayne said.

Do you.

Yes, Wayne said, defeated. i do. i can't help it _you wanted me actually wanted me and you don't Judge me like She did you're still a monster but you don't Judge_ Look, he continued, i know that i didn't have to save you. And i know that i can't fix you, or change who you are. But i'm helping because i want to. 

Are you ashamed of that. The Joker's voice was soft and worn and wrecked. 

Of what.

That you want to help me. That you always try to help who you can. The Joker raised his head and looked at Wayne really looked at him. You shouldn't be ashamed of that. Wayne stared at him.

You have no idea how strange that sounds. i mean, coming from you _coming from someone like you you're still a monster but you don't Judge me_ Wayne trailed his fingers down the clown's white forearm to rest them lightly on the back of his hand. It wasn't just pity, you know, he said quietly. Pity wasn't the only thing that saved you. 

Then what. The Joker's tunnel gaze fixed on him burned so much he felt it could set him alight.

Nothing, he murmured. Nothing. i don’t know. Wayne opened his hand and watched the Joker's spider fingers twine around his own to squeeze, twice. 

After a minute Wayne realized that he should probably snap the fuck out of it make the call clean up the bathroom and tend to the wound on his arm before it got infected, if he didn’t close it it would pick up bacteria and fester and he didn’t really want to deal with that on top of everything else. 

i’ll call in a prescription for you, he told the Joker. Are you allergic to any medications. 

Penicillin, the Joker murmured. He seemed calmer but he was still breathing too fast like he'd run for miles without stopping and he was still running. Like his body was starting to betray him. And part of him was human. Not all of him, but part. Not like he was hiding the pain but that he ( _wanted needed couldn't feel_ ) it pushing at him coupling with exhaustion until it was almost too late until his physical self started to crumble beneath him. But his anger was there and his will was still there. Wayne phoned his pharmacist and got what he needed with the instructions to have it delivered as soon as possible. He then turned his attention back to the Joker, pinched the back of his hand to check for dehydration. 

Have some more water. He tried not to sound like he was begging. The Joker picked up the glass but set it back down after a few sips.

i can't, he said quietly, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. He looked so human there, more than Wayne had ever seen him. 

Come here, Wayne said softly. The Joker scooted back across the floor and sat beside him. They were so close that their knees were touching so close that the smell of blood and sweat and gunpowder sank into him. The Joker glanced up at Wayne and saw the look on his face.

For fucksake, the Joker sighed. Cut that shit out. i'm fine. i will be. 

i know, Wayne said. i know. But i. His voice cracked so he shut up and his hand moved all on its own to rest on the Joker's thigh. He felt the Joker's weight against him felt the Joker relenting, sinking into him he felt the Joker's head on his shoulder on his shoulder and he wanted it there. The Joker was still shaking, Wayne could feel the tremor running through them both  
transferring to him.  
But his breathing began to even out and he wasn't coughing hard anymore. Wayne got his other arm around the other man's back and hugged him a little closer,  
holding him.

Are you okay? He asked. The Joker nodded.

Do you need anything?

He shook his head.

Are you lying to me?

Head shake.

Good. Just. Sit here for a minute. Wayne disentangled one of his arms and took the surgical needle and thread from the edge of the bathtub. He threaded the needle after several attempts and poured a stream of peroxide over the wound. It bubbled into the exposed flesh, stinging. 

He bit his lip.

The Joker watched him fumble with the stitches.

You're fucking it all up, he said at last. Give it here. Wayne relinquished it. The white powder made a little puff in the air as the Joker snapped a glove over his hand.

Wayne barely felt the point of the metal dip into his skin, despite the unsteady twitch in the Joker's fingers.

You do trust me, the Joker remarked. i could stick this needle into your eye right now.

You could, Wayne said softly. But you won't. i know you won't. The Joker didn't say anything more. He just sat in silence with his head resting on Wayne's shoulder and the needle at his white fingertips, making a row of tiny, perfectly spaced stitches that Wayne could barely see.


	8. The Ballad of Moose Bruce

[The Ballad of Moose Bruce: Born Ruffians.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZt0ayM2oFg/)

That shirt's filthy. You should take it off.

Wayne reached above his head and turned up the dimmer switch illuminating the white bathroom walls illuminating the mirror and the Joker's translucent skin, the fine blue veins branching out across his damaged wrists. Wayne reached then for the hem of his t-shirt, but the other man batted his hand away.

S’fine, the Joker mumbled. i’m tired. 

It's got blood and vomit all over it and it's sticking to you, Wayne said to him. Take it off and i’ll bring your clothes. i washed them earlier. 

How domestic of you. 

Just raise your arms for a second, Wayne pleaded, plucking at the fabric again. Help me a little. The Joker flinched briefly but visibly as he straightened. Is your stomach sore, Wayne asked as he eased the other man’s arms through the sleeves. 

A bit. The Joker gagged without warning and threw up the last of the gatorade into the toilet bowl. 

Looks like windex...he whispered. That’s fucked. He coughed and his lungs rattled the thick wet kind of rattle that usually ends up requiring antibiotics. 

i’m sorry that you’re feeling so bad. Wayne flushed the toilet and put his hand on the Joker’s bare back. You need to keep drinking though, even if you lose most of it. 

Yeah. i know. The Joker tried to spit but he choked and went back to heaving. It was over pretty quickly and after the Joker had settled down Wayne dropped the t-shirt into the bathtub and wet a cloth for the other man to wipe his face with. Wayne waited for a bit before he reclaimed the cloth and started rubbing at a smudge of dirt on the Joker's neck.

What are you doing. 

What does it look like i’m doing? Wayne asked. The Joker still seemed genuinely puzzled by his actions. Unless you want to...Wayne held the cloth out but the Joker shook his head. Then he tipped his chin up and kept perfectly still so Wayne could clean all of the old blood and sweat and grime away. In fact for a long time after the Joker was silent as Wayne gently scrubbed over the rest of what he could reach: the Joker's chest, his arms, his stomach, his back. When Wayne had finished that he wet a piece of gauze with peroxide and set to cleaning the worst of the Joker's wounds. The Joker watched him work and didn't speak.

You're acting like you owe me something, Bruce Wayne, he said after half an hour had passed. You don't. Wayne smiled sadly. 

i just care about you, that's all. i already told you. This is what caring is. He let his fingers stray across the Joker's white cheek leaving little trails in their wake. Then without really thinking he rubbed his thumb softly along the Chelsea smile scar briefly exploring the pits and bumps in the Joker's flesh. The Joker let him do it did not  
ask Wayne to take his hand away. After a minute or two Wayne moved his fingers to pinch a bit of skin on the back of the Joker’s hand.

Mild to moderate dehydration, the Joker said as the skin settled back. Not nearly as serious as it was. Wayne nodded in agreement. 

The medication should be here in twenty minutes. If you’re tired you can lie down in my bed.

You really want me in your bed? The Joker raised one eyebrow. That’s gross. i’m gross. 

It’s fine. The sheets will wash. And it’s much more comfortable than the sofa. Wayne sat up on his heels. Come on, we can watch Animal Cops or something.

Animal Cops? The Joker sniggered. Jesus H Christ.

Come on, Wayne persisted. Let's go.

Okay, the Joker said. Sure. Wayne knelt in front of him and waited while he pulled himself together, he had to get up slowly because the morphine had made him dizzy.

i. Wayne started to speak but he felt his cheeks flush. He could feel the Joker 's eyes on him, boring straight into him.

What. The Joker shook his hair out of his face, grinning. What is it. Wayne bit his lip and looked at the floor.

i could never condone what you do, he said at last. But...i'd give anything to have your grit. i really would.

That's sweet. The Joker got up on his knees and cracked his back again. Wayne could hear the vertebrae popping. He put his hands under the Joker's arms and pulled him to his feet and held him while he stood there swaying gently,  
like he was standing on a boat.

They went back into the bedroom and the Joker got settled in bed while Wayne brought him his clothes. The television was still on blaring nonsense making background noise. Wayne began searching around for a garbage can in case the Joker got sick again but he couldn't find one. After a minute he discovered an ice bucket behind the sofa and dumped out the empty Dom Perignon bottle  
the one that he remembered costing over five hundred dollars  
the one that he remembered feeding to a French pop star while she sucked on his fingers and somehow failed entirely  
to move him.

Wayne set the bucket on the floor and popped a percocet. 

i’m going to make coffee and get you some ice, you need more fluid. Wayne nodded towards his bedside table. There’s a pager if you need me. i have my phone. The Joker stared at him. 

You have a pager. 

Yes. It’s right there. Wayne pointed and frowned. Why are you laughing.

Because—the Joker paused to hack and spit into a tissue—Bruce Wayne. Still. Owns. A God. Damned. Pager. 

Yeah, okay. 

That’s. That’s almost as bad as wearing a fucking fanny pack. 

It is not. For Chrissakes, take a breath. Wayne bent down to kiss the top of the Joker’s head (twice) before he left the room. He could still hear him laughing faintly even as he rounded the corner and went into the kitchen. 

The pain was returning full force into Wayne’s hands and his jaw and his back but it really wasn't so debilitating now that he'd gone a few days without sustaining new injuries without fighting without pushing his body past its limits and past its limits and past its limits again. He decided he'd only take one percocet that night. His consciousness sharpened a bit when his bare feet hit the cold kitchen tile. For a second Wayne remembered who he was and what it meant to be disconnected from Gotham for two hours let alone two days how anything could happen without Batman there to keep its weary seams pulled together he remembered who he was reached for the television remote and switched over to the news channel, eyes wide then.

Then Wayne’s phone rang signaling the arrival of the medication he’d been so anxiously waiting for and he turned the television off went back to the Tasks At Hand without really thinking about it, about what he was choosing and over what. 

Gotham could wait. 

He flipped on the coffee maker took a handful of candy from the Candy Drawer and made his way down to the front door. 

He really hoped it could wait.

***

Five minutes later Wayne came back into the bedroom with a vial in one hand and a glass of ice in the other to face the Joker the clown the psychopath Arkham's most notorious criminal Batman's arch nemesis et cetera et cetera, sitting on his bed shaking wrapped in his black silk sheets. 

Wayne went to him and set the glass on the bedside table. He climbed onto the bed and picked a single ice cube between finger and thumb. The Joker opened his mouth and accepted it without comment, sucked at Wayne's fingers as he pulled them away sent chills snap snapping down his spine.  
The Joker's mouth was almost as captivating as his eyes.The perfect curve of his cupid’s bow still stood out red, stained, but the bight red sheen of the paint was gone. Wayne pulled his fingers back and rested the pad of his thumb on the Joker’s lower lip. 

i got this for you, he said. Cyclimorph. That way i won’t have to give you two shots. It might make you sleepy but you need to rest anyway. Wayne retrieved the vial and took a new hypodermic needle from his pocket. It’s an IM injection. Unbutton your shirt. The wrapper crackled under his fingers as he tore the plastic away as he lined everything up on a tray and knelt in front of his _nemesis/enemy/lover whatever, fuck it..._

i thought that shit was only available in the UK, the Joker said, squinting at the vial in Wayne’s hand.

My pharmacist can get me whatever i want from wherever i want, he explained. Lucky for you he keeps cyclimorph on hand; i use it every once in a while. 

Seriously, the Joker went on, you need to hook me up. i’ll make it worth your while. 

Sure you will. 

i’ll like, not blow up a bridge next time or something. The Joker pushed his heels against the mattress and inched upright. Is that enough. One bridge for your guy’s phone number.

i’m not sure that’s a fair trade, Wayne replied as he peeled the cover from the the vial. And we’re not about to start making promises and deals and shit. What happens in Bruce Wayne’s tower stays in Bruce Wayne’s tower. 

Does that rule apply to all your other whores or just me, the Joker asked. Wayne shrugged.

Does it work for you. The Joker tilted his head slowly from side to side, considering. 

You take care of them the way you do me? 

Well, no...Wayne looked away from him. 

Why? The Joker reached out to slide one spider hand down Wayne’s thigh. You got a soft spot for oversexed criminal masterminds or what. Wayne didn’t know what to say. You don't think that i deserve to feel this pain? The Joker unbuttoned his collared shirt, looking at Wayne curiously still despite the tired glaze over his eyes.

Nobody deserves it. Wayne tore open an alcohol wipe and cleaned the top of the vial before turning it upside down and sticking the needle into the stopper. i've been there, he said. Nobody deserves to hurt like that.

Nobody? 

Did you want me to leave you in that alley. The Joker didn't answer his question. Are you glad that you're not dead, Wayne persisted. Are you even glad that i saved you. The Joker ignored him. Watched him draw the hypodermic from the stopper snap the plastic twice with his forefinger and depress the plunger until a bead of fluid crept from the tip. The Joker opened another wipe and rubbed the cotton over a spot on his upper arm, flicking his dark eyes back and forth from Wayne to the hypodermic as if he half-expected Wayne to use it to stab him in the throat. But Wayne didn’t _(of course he didn’t)_ he slid the needle into the deltoid muscle of the Joker's arm he'd done so many injections since becoming Batman that it had become automatic he could do it in his sleep. He handed the Joker a piece of gauze to hold to the tiny circle of blood and tossed the capped needle at the trashcan across the room. It landed squarely without hitting the rim. _And the crowd goes wild_. 

Fifteen minutes, Wayne said breaking their silence. Then you should try some water or gatorade or whatever. Is there anything else you want. In response the Joker let himself fall back flat and closed his eyes. His hair fanned out across the silk sheets and his shirt was half-buttoned. 

Wayne thought that the Joker was one of the most beautiful men he'd ever seen.

Is there anything else i can do? He pulled the sheet up around the Joker’s shoulders. The Joker's eyes slivered open. He caught Wayne's hand and held it to his chest, over his heart.

You've done enough already. And i told you that i'll be all right, so stop looking at me like that.

i'll look at you any way i want, Wayne said. The Joker smirked. Wayne crawled over to the other side and the Joker moved closer to him. His head was on Wayne's shoulder again and Wayne still wanted it there God he wanted it there that same  
paint  
blood  
sweat  
gunpowder  
clinging to him. Wayne could already see himself lying in that huge bed alone two days from then, longing for that smell. He saw himself sitting in his office in his car on his couch alone, missing that smell. Wayne propped himself up on his elbow and ran his fingertips down the side of the Joker's neck down the length of his arm. He was covered in bruises and scabs, his hair was matted with dried blood and paint. He was still prison-ripped, finely muscled, was still a hot mess.

The hottest mess.

Wayne lay down beside him and 

it seemed like he’d blinked and his bedside clock suddenly read 4:20 which meant that over three hours had passed. The television was off and the sheets were cold and the Joker was no longer on the bed. Wayne looked around and saw the top of his head sticking out over the arm of the sofa. 

Wayne fished in his discarded sweatpants pocket for the sweets he'd taken earlier before he pulled on his robe and went over, dragging a blanket behind him. The Joker was sprawled across the entire length of the couch, drinking water and reading a book. His color was closer to human but he was still shaking (hypoglycemia) and when he coughed twice Wayne could hear the wheeze of his congested lungs. 

You’re looking better, Wayne said. Scoot over. He climbed over the back of the cushions as the Joker made room for him. You're shaking pretty badly though, Wayne remarked. Here, pick something. He pulled the plastic-wrapped candy from his pocket and held it out. There were four jolly ranchers and two air heads and one package of skittles. The Joker took a cherry flavored air head and opened it, the crinkle of the wrapper the only sound besides a dull roar coming from the electric fireplace. Wayne took the skittles for himself and they sat there quietly for a while.

Yes i like candy, Wayne admitted out of nowhere. Yes i have a drawer full of it in the kitchen, it's good for raising blood sugar quickly, and yes i like lucky charms and captain crunch and every other kid's cereal in the entire damn world, i have a freezer full of popsicles even in winter and every friday night i make macaroni and cheese okay. There. Now stop smirking at me.

The Joker stopped.

So you're a closet fatty—

Yes, Wayne sighed, opening a jolly rancher. i just eat healthy organic bullshit most of the time. i have to. i hate it. The Joker looked at him with an expression that he couldn't quite read.

You're an enigma Bruce Wayne, i'll give you that, he said softly. And the clown did not resist when Wayne's arms went around him, bundling him in. He just dropped the book on the floor and huddled closer. 

Why are you staying here, Wayne asked. You could have killed me by now if you wanted to. 

Even if i could kill you i’d have to find a way out of your fortress, and i can barely walk. The Joker shrugged his shoulders. And then who would i have to be my nemesis? The corners of his mouth twitched. Nobody who can fuck like you can anyway, i’ll bet every dollar in Gotham on that. 

i’m flattered. 

You should be. The Joker dragged his thumb over one of Wayne’s nipples, digging the edge of his nail in just enough so that he would feel it. Wayne’s cock twitched.

Are you staying here because you want to be with me? he ventured.

i do what i want, the Joker replied shortly. And right here right now yes i want to be with you. It's nice. Also i've been retardedly high since i got here so you know. There's that to consider too. Wayne frowned.

So if i hadn't—

Nope, the Joker interrupted. i may high as shit right now but it wasn't the morphine that made me come on to you, babe. i mean look at you. Wayne felt the Joker smile against his chest.

But it's the morphine that's keeping you here?

Possibly. The Joker bit his lip, considering. i don't know, he said. i don't care. But you've seen what i get like when i'm not sedated. Wayne felt his throat tighten suddenly like he was about to cry but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

When i have to take you back, he started, but the Joker interrupted him again.

No, he said. Don't think about that. Don't. Poison what little time we have worrying about tomorrow, or the day after. We have what, like twenty six hours left?

_But i want more than that it's not enough_

After that, what happens then will happen then. The Joker drank the last of his water and set the bottle down. You’re a big boy. You can deal with it. But this is what's happening now, so just enjoy this. He wriggled down into the sofa and tipped his head back against Wayne’s chest looked at him upside-down. Can you do that for me please? He asked. 

So Wayne made the best decision he'd made in a long time; he decided to shelve his pride and take the Joker's advice for once decided _to take the bad guy’s advice imagine that_ he said

_Okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit it's ALMOST DONE. Originally this chapter was supposed to be the last but now it's more like the pretty-much end instead of the real end. Thanks for your patience guys, it takes me forever to write anything and even longer to edit. Peace
> 
> *Wow so after reading this chapter through a few times i've realized i don't really like it...at least compared to the other chapters, maybe, whatever, i was drunk. i've agonized over it long enough though. 'Sall good.


	9. Swim Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.
> 
> If you haven't listened to any of the title songs so far, this is the one you should listen to.

[Swim Club: The Cave Singers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PoKzyr4zMNE)

It really is beautiful isn’t it. 

What.

Gotham. i mean how often do we actually look at it. The Joker used his lit cigarette to gesture out at the thousands upon thousands of tiny lights that made up the city below. Wayne peered over the balcony.

Only at night, he said, tugging the Joker closer to him. The clown’s makeup had faded again and what was left had streaked from sweat but it still collected around the red of his mouth, his black hole eyes. Wayne tipped his cheek against the Joker’s skull breathed in the gunpowder smell _the smell of death and fire and the chase god he would miss that_. Do you want to go inside? he asked. You’re starting to shiver again. The Joker glared up at him but it was a tired petulant kind of glare with no real heat behind it.

i want to finish smoking, he said. He flicked his cigarette sending a tiny puff of ash into the air, mixing with the snowflakes. The snow had not yet stopped. Wayne took a step towards the sliding door but the Joker wouldn’t move. Just a fucking second, he snapped. i need to stay out for a minute longer. The electricity in your place was starting to get to me. Wayne turned and looked at him. 

i’m sorry, what? The Joker rolled his reddened eyes.

Your entire condo is full of wires and devices connected to the wires and the walls were fucking buzzing and—Wayne kissed him to shut him up. The Joker sighed against his mouth and Wayne tasted the smoke on him and for a moment their energies surged blotting out everything except the cold and the snow and the two of them. Wayne sucked it in like a drowning man surfacing before he pulled away. 

Come on, he murmured against the Joker’s cheek. It’s time to go in _(and i just can’t sit here and watch you hurt like this you idiot with your fucking death wish with fluid in your lungs and you're smoking)_. The other man scowled at him and took two more drags before he snapped his middle finger against his thumb sending the butt spiraling over the marble railing. Wayne slid the glass door open and they both went in. 

The Joker was sniffling and coughing and the sound reminded Wayne of new snow crunching underfoot. 

Your lungs sound terrible, he remarked as they crossed the living room. The Joker shrugged. If you want to take a bath the steam might help, Wayne suggested. And you could use a bath anyway, you’re filthy. 

Will you wash my hair? The Joker asked.

Maybe. 

Will you get in with me. Wayne smirked as the Joker groped at his ass. 

We’ll see. But you need to eat something first. What do you want.

Do you have fruit loops? the Joker asked.

Of course i do. i'm a closet fatty, remember. Wayne put his arm across the other man's shoulders and lead him into the kitchen.

 

After the Joker had eaten a bowl and a half of fruit loops with almond milk they went into the bathroom and the Joker got undressed while Wayne started the water running. Then he took a packet of guaifenesin and an albuterol inhaler from the cabinet and pushed them into the Joker’s hands. 

These will help you breathe a bit better, he said. i have some azythromycin but they’ll probably give you antibiotics after i take you back _and i don’t want to god help me i don’t want to i want you to stay here please don’t leave me alone please_. The Joker popped the inhaler open. 

You got half a hospital tucked away in this palace of yours? he asked. 

Pretty much. Wayne opened the cabinet to his left and peered inside. Word travels fast when you’re a billionaire playboy executive with a face that shows up on the front page of the tabloids every week. i can’t exactly run crying to the hospital every time i get hurt, i mean how would that look. 

Your face belongs on the front page, Bruce Wayne. The Joker’s eyes slid over his body. God you’re attractive. Wayne bit back a grin.

Have you always thought that, he asked. 

 

The Joker winked at him and lowered himself into the bathtub.

Wayne rolled his sleeves back and reached for the shampoo bottle. 

 

Do you want me to wash your face, he asked gently. The Joker shook his head. Okay, Wayne said. It’s okay, i won’t. He took his time washing the Joker’s hair though, rinsing out the dirt and blood, picking apart the tangles. Then he lathered up a bar of soap and slid his hands carefully over the Joker’s shoulders over his collarbone and chest while the Joker grinned up at him numbed and warm and half asleep, all the fight in him lying dormant. Without sedatives it would come roaring back but for the time being he seemed content to sit back and give up control and Wayne admired that.

After twenty minutes the water had turned dark grey so Wayne drained the bath and worked over the Joker’s injuries with a plastic bottle of saline solution. Only one or two of them were dark pink and seeping and the stitches on his chest and ribs seemed to be healing decently. It was remarkable really, how quickly the Joker’s body recovered from trauma. Wayne threw his gloves away and turned the bathtub taps on again.

The Joker suddenly reached out to pluck the saline from Wayne’s hand and took a glove from the box. 

Turn around, he ordered. 

You can barely sit

Shut up and hold still, the other man snapped. i’ll just do this scrape on your back. You can’t reach it and it looks pretty bad. He pulled the glove on. Wayne shifted around until he sat facing away from the other man _(he was sitting unarmed with his BACK to the JOKER)_ and steeled himself a little as first the water then the Joker’s thin fingers brushed the scrape sending shivering stings deep into the raw flesh. 

Yeah this shit is infected. Keep an eye on it. The Joker applied a little pressure and Wayne flinched away as his skin throbbed angrily under the Joker’s fingertips. Hand me a paper towel, the other man said, it’s oozing everywhere. Wayne handed him one and sat biting his lip waiting while the wound burned every time the rough paper made contact with it. Did your suit do this to you, the Joker asked by means of distraction and Wayne was grateful for it.

It did. When i grabbed on to the bumper of the truck and it dragged me the inner lining of my suit abraded my skin. It happens sometimes.

That’s a shame. The cold pure water sluiced down over the scrape again making Wayne gasp very very softly. Where’s your favorite place to base jump in that thing.

i’ve never actually been base jumping in it, Wayne admitted. Not for fun anyway. 

Seriously? The Joker’s hand stilled on his back. You’ve never—if i had that fucking thing...why haven’t you. Don’t you like it. Wayne considered.

i imagine that i would. It would be a lot more exhilarating if you and the cops and everyone i know weren’t there trying to kill me while i’m doing it.

i jumped at this place in Kemer, the Joker said softly. On the coast of Turkey. You should go there in the summer sometime, try it out.

Yeah right, Wayne laughed. Leave Gotham to fend for itself. 

So what’s stopping you, the Joker asked. Wayne thought about it.

i'm not sure, he said at last. i don’t remember when i stopped knowing how to have fun _or how to be at peace or how to let go._ Wayne felt his throat tighten the beginnings of being about to cry but he swallowed it back and sat quietly waiting for the Joker to finish cleaning him up. 

Thank you, Wayne said when he was done. 

You don’t have to thank me, the clown told him. But you could get in with me. You look cold. Wayne felt suddenly shy but he began getting undressed regardless stripping slowly as the Joker watched. As soon as he got in the Joker pressed up close against him. Wayne turned the whirlpools on the lowest setting and lay back with the other man resting against his chest he closed his eyes and 

at some point Wayne realized that he was fighting to keep his eyes open that he was falling asleep that the gauzy pill high had pushed him over the edge, into a half state between consciousness  
and unconsciousness. He felt the room slow down and turn hazy blue felt the warm solid weight of the man in his arms fusing with him becoming part of his own heat. Wayne caught himself wondering how they'd reached that point, how they'd gone from hackle raised blind hatred to amity so quickly. He didn't come up with any answers, and he didn't want them.

But they were running out of time.

i don't know how much longer i can do the whole Batman thing, he admitted out of nowhere. The Joker smiled and kissed him.

That's the percs talking. You've got a couple more good years in you, at least.

Years?

Yeah. Don't worry about it yet, he said. You’re a tough kid, you’ll be fine. 

That's easy for you to say, Wayne told him.

Sure is, Bruce Wayne. The Joker flashed a grin to match Wayne’s frown. It sure is. Now shut up and try to enjoy this like i asked you earlier. Jesus. And then Wayne couldn’t feel that bad anymore because the Joker was splashing him shaking him out of his torpor and he was laughing _actually laughing_ he was pushing the Joker up against the back of the tub he was  
crying out as the Joker’s toe dug into his ribs making him squirm away sending sheets of water over the edge Wayne was

kissing him

holding him down 

feeling the long muscles flex under his fingers and he was getting so

 _so_ hard as the Joker’s legs wrapped around his back and he decided then to hell with it he could fuck his nemesis again. 

Are you sure you’re up for this, Wayne asked. The Joker growled and bit at his shoulder. Fine, Wayne said, tugging him upright. Here, sit up. You won’t cough as much. 

i don’t care, the Joker said. 

i do. Wayne settled the Joker between his crossed legs. And i’m going to take my time. 

But

i’m going to take my time, Wayne repeated, sliding his hands slowly down the Joker’s hard thighs. And you are going to sit here and like it.

The Joker beamed at him.

And it was there in that tub there in that semiconsciousness where the Joker set to rekindling Wayne's deadened soul, where  
the four white walls in his bathroom formed the borders of his plane of perception where  
he had no responsibilities and nobody expected anything of him where  
he and the Joker could spend every day lying on the sofa or in the tub or in bed, watching television and talking and fucking themselves stupid. But it didn't work that way and he wouldn't want it to. Wayne wasn't even sure if it all should have happened in the first place, but they were both so past that point that it didn't matter. 

It didn't matter. Not even in the last few hours before they had to get ready to leave and Wayne still wasn't sure if the Joker would try to run. He let Wayne sedate him again without fighting it but Wayne couldn't tell if it was due to his feelings or lack thereof or the fact that he was ill and beaten up and worn out.

_Will you visit me, the Joker asked him. In Arkham, i mean._

_i thought we weren't talking about the future._

_We're not, i just...i want to know._

_i'll visit you. Sometime._

_Promise?_

_i'll visit you._

_i'm sure Batman can come up with something._

_Right. But barring that, you would still kill me if you got the chance right._

_i don't want to kill you, Bruce Wayne. Batman is far too much fun. Just don't expect me to cut you any slack._

_i wouldn't._

_And accidents happen. Bear that in mind._

_i will._

_i'm over it._

_So am i._

_Thank you._

And so for that evening Wayne didn't think about the past or the future and he did not think about his father's car and he did not think about Her. Instead he took a moment to imprint everything he wanted to remember the good things _the peace the percocet the kiss the sex the banter—before during and after—the gleam in the Joker's obsidian eyes when he took Wayne's cock into his mouth the warmth of the Joker's body pressed wet and shining against his own as they fucked long and slow in his acrylic whirlpool bathtub the assurance that another person had trusted and cared for and understood him even in the slightest measure, even just for a moment..._  
He wanted to remember the good things. He wanted to hold the feeling of heady tranquility in his mind and in his heart so that even when he did put the suit on again to tear across Gotham’s rooftops or beat down coldblooded killers or stand on the edge of a cliff overlooking the walensee or the south pacific or the mediterranean sea with his artificial wings spread wide he could let every  
goddamn shred of peace he once felt keep him from becoming consumed by the Batman entirely. Wayne knew that they would have to go back, he did know that. But all that mattered to him then was being there in that moment and only in that moment  
just being there  and being with. It felt right to just

be there, and 

be with.

**Swim Club**

I can wait at the canyon's corner and I'm back away  
I can see you looking into locuses that ease your mind  
Won't peel your cowl back, I'm shaking up and you're stepping down  
Put your cookies in the cooling rack, let's kiss the sky away, hey 

Holding on to your fishing line  
I can feel the future just fine  
I can feel the future, baby  
It's tumbling down your cheek 

But I can't see the past, oh no  
I'm no one contending, oh lord  
I can see your future life  
and that future life don't play 

Dark streets, watch out  
Long streets, back home  
Dark streets, watch out  
Let's ride 

Tied to the boats of my life, I'm a man of sanity  
No man is a sinking houseboat, yeah it just arrived  
Have you snuck off into parks land, shooting off the flare gun  
Are you in my office building, well I ain't dressed for the occasion 

Oh, ain't that the way things work  
Ain't that the way things go  
Aren't those the stories we've been told  
Sister, let's ride again 

Dark streets, watch out  
Red sun, come home  
Dark streets, watch out  
Well, let's ride 

You can call me all night 

I'm living like a lonely man, I'm living in this lonely land  
I'm living in an empty bed, watching those bars at night  
I'm leaving all the things I have, and I'm waiting on the canyon's edge  
I'm living like a lonely man, bring back your bars tonight 

I'm living like a lonely man, I'm living on this lonely land  
I'm leaning on an empty bench, watching those bars at night  
but I'm leaving all the things I have, and I'm waiting on the canyon's edge  
I'm living in this lonely land, bring back your bars tonight, and let's ride 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading, commenting and kudos, and a special thank to those of you who encouraged me to finish. 
> 
>  
> 
>  **Edit 07/15:** Yay it's a series again. You guys should go ahead and read the other ~~two~~ _~~three?! There are three now??? fuck me~~_ ~~six~~ eight and let me know what you think okay.


End file.
